Mass Effect - Flames in the face of Perdition
by MizDirected
Summary: For the Aria's Afterlife September contest. Four things that didn't happen to Garrus Vakarian and one that did. I have no idea if I did this right, but I like the idea. Garrus AU prior to the beginning of the first game.
1. Chapter 1

**Pari** - Father

**Mari** - Mother

**Pahir** - Son

**Torin** - turian male of the age of majority

"Turn it down."

Cold, shuttered eyes looked up at the _torin_ standing in the door to Garrus's office. "Sure, _Pari,_ come in. Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable," Garrus replied, the words making his jaw ache like chewing on metal foil.

Herros Vakarian strode over the threshold, radiating an officious sublimity that grated against his son's every nerve. "Don't start, Garrus. I'm serious. Saren is a bad risk." He didn't take the offered seat. Instead, he leaned against it, arms crossing, security gates thumping closed over his keel. Even his mandibles pulled tight against his face, slamming a wall up to keep Garrus firmly in his place on the other side. "Tell the executor to pass it to a more senior investigator."

Garrus chuffed and shook his head, swallowing the first five snarky comments that appeared in his head. Opting for number six, he posed behind his desk, a wall of reflective ice meeting his father's demanding, earnest stare. "This investigation is a great opportunity, and a huge vote of confidence in my abilities, so I can understand why you think I should walk away from it." Cocking his head a little, he clasped his hands and laid them on the desktop. "Thank you for your concern, but I won't be doing that." Biting back a cruel grin, he ramped up his nonchalance until it rubbed shoulders with condescension.

His father's speechlessness sparked a glow of victory that warmed the underside of his plates. About bloody time. Five cycles and a hundred arguments stood between them and any guilt that might try to worm through the heady satisfaction. Besides, for his _pari's_ part, it all came down to pride. If Garrus succeeded, the great Herros Vakarian would have to admit that he'd been wrong about his son. Garrus chuffed. Trebia would go nova first.

Herros straightened, freezing still as death, his chin lifting as the missiles hit. "I suppose it was expecting too much to hope that you'd listen to reason." Spinning on his talons, the elder Vakarian strode to the door. "Saren's dirty. We all know that. You haven't discovered rocket propulsion, Garrus." He palmed the control, then buttressed a hand against the door frame. "But there's a reason that none of us have gone after him." Amber eyes flashed with fire, Herros's only outward sign of anger or hurt. "There's a reason this was assigned to you after that debacle with the red sand dealer."

That blow hit hard enough to stagger him. Garrus forced his stare as dead and cold as he could manage despite the rage boiling like acid in his veins. The censure in his father's stare sizzled along his nerves, buzzing in his brain, wasps around a shattered nest. For a moment, the entire office seemed to grow around him, as if he shrunk back into the child who once choked back tears in the face of his father's disapproval.

Shaking his head, Herros let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping, his armour shattering into brittle shards of glass as it dropped away. "Believe it or not, Garrus, I love you. You're my _pahir_, and I'm not here to thwart your career. I'm here because it will break my heart to see you end up somewhere dark and ugly." Leaning into the hand braced against the door, his head bowed a little. "Saren is dirty, but he's protected too well. He's the council's right hand when it comes to black ops. He's willing to go into a human colony and kill thousands of people to get a beacon for them."

Garrus burst from his chair, surprise exploding through his careful facade as he lunged across his desk, hands braced against the top. "The council sent him?" Anger, confusion, and embarrassment waged an all too visible war across his face and through his sub-vocals before he gripped them both in an iron fist. How did his father know something like that when he hadn't heard even a whisper? Was the old man going behind his back, setting him up?

Herros held up both hands. "I've heard it said, but you know the amount of stock I put in rumours."

Snapping straight and rigid, Garrus said, "Unless they're about me, then you're all over them." The second the words escaped, he regretted speaking, but not because he didn't believe what he said. He just hated demonstrating how badly his father got under his skin. Crossing his arms, he erected armour of his own.

"Saren is too well protected for your investigation to go anywhere, Garrus. You're a sacrificial offering to the Alliance." Herros shrugged, his expression appearing genuinely sad. Garrus didn't trust it. If Herros Vakarian felt sorrow about anything, it was the hit his reputation would take thanks to his screw up of a son. "I know you won't listen to me, but I had to say something." He released the door and stepped through. "Be careful."

Garrus waited until the door closed before he let out the breath he was holding and sank back into his chair. Damn it. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands, and waited for his pulse to stop hammering under both jaw bones and behind his keel. His father was right about one thing: Saren was incredibly well protected politically. If the Alliance wasn't screaming at the top of their lungs about their colony, or it had been a less visible colony than Eden Prime, no doubt the whole thing would have just been tossed off a cliff.

That meant he needed to be both careful and inventive. Confidence pushed aside the anger and doubt, allowing his head to cool at last. Despite what his father thought, he hadn't risen to his current position by being a dumbass. He pushed himself up, grabbed his sidearm, and headed out into the ward. Maybe he'd hear some of those rumors for himself.


	2. Chapter 2

As Garrus buffeted his way through a fourth, futile lap of the presidium markets, his omnitool let out an indecently cheerful chirp, earning itself an explicit curse for its trouble. His formidable size usually backed people off even when his C-Sec armour didn't, but during rush hours, the markets spared no one.

He opened the incoming message, a genuine smile greeting the woman's image. "Dr. Michel." He liked the doctor. Plucky and passionate, she hadn't allowed the wards to beat the give-a-damn out of her yet.

"Officer Vakarian," she replied, her voice breathy, the pitch high and tense. The smile she gave him didn't spread further than her mouth, setting off his alarms, as did her formality.

"What can I do for you, Doctor?" he asked, continuing her professionalism. He kept his voice low and looked up, searching for somewhere he could pause without being mowed down. Angling off toward an alcove along the wall, he asked, "Are you in some sort of trouble?"

She shook her head, her curtain of red hair flowing around her face in emphatic waves. "No, but I just had a visitor I thought you should know about."

Glancing up to make sure no one watched him, Garrus ducked into the niche. "Go ahead." He laced a strong sub-vocal of reassurance and caring through the words. Manipulating Chloe sent a wave of sour acid burning up his throat, but sometimes the human weakness for turian vocal layers proved the fastest way to what he needed.

"A young quarian just came through my clinic. She'd been shot in the arm. Polonium rounds." Dr. Michel's lip curled, reflexively revealing her dislike of firearms. "She said she had important information to trade for safety. I gave her your name, but she bolted … said she'd been referred to Fist." Her shoulders popped up and dropped. "I thought you should know anyway. She seemed scared to death."

He nodded. "Okay, I'll head over to Chora's Den." He smiled. "Thanks for letting me know, Chloe. Talk to you soon."

She smiled, a genuine one that made her eyes sparkle. "We should go out for a drink later this week."

Already heading toward the transportation stand, he nodded. "Sounds good, give me a call. Vakarian out."

"So official." She chuckled. "Goodbye, Garrus."

The trip to Chora's Den, one of the seedier clubs in the wards, took all of fifteen minutes. He got out of the cab and passed through the door to the street. The pounding bass of dance music throbbed out the door, getting louder as a couple of humans entered.

No quarians on the street.

Surely, he had to have beaten her there. A youngster, new to the Citadel, hiding from assassins … not exactly a schematic for fast or decisive movement.

Indecision froze his talons to the pavement, but after an internal debate that lasted only a couple of heartbeats, he stepped through onto the street. If the quarian didn't show within a half hour, he'd search inside then trace the routes between the med clinic and the club if she didn't turn up there. His plan in place, he leaned against a railing to watch the cars fly past. One day, he really needed to get off the damned station and see something of the galaxy.

"Vakarian?"

Garrus spun, his sidearm settling into his hand even before three turians swaggered through the transport station door. Carving a cocky smile onto his face, he shook his head and gave fear a hard kick to the back of his mind. "Saren only sent three?" Cold laughter tumbled between bared teeth. "He really doesn't do his homework, does he?"

Garrus dropped the first assassin, blowing a hole dead-center through his brow plate. Rounds pelting his shields, Garrus bolted for cover, vaulting over a railing. Lifting up just far enough to locate the last two, he saw them circling around to flank him. He squeezed off a couple of rounds to pin them down, then raced down the long side, headed toward the club's door.

Booted talons dug furrows in the pavement as he slid around the corner, fighting for purchase for a split second before gravity dragged him down. Vicious spikes of pain pierced his hip as he slammed into the wall, but he jumped straight up. Absorbing a dozen rounds, he lined up a headshot, waiting for the perfect moment to squeeze the trigger. Of all the days to leave his rifle behind. Still, his pistol punched through the assassin's shields, blowing away nearly half the _torin's_ head.

One left.

"Keelah."

Garrus spun toward the soft exclamation, barely registering a small female in a purple and black environmental suit before the last assassin fired.

"No!" Furious, cobalt lightning seared across his vision as the little quarian crumpled to the floor, a marionette with its strings cut. Striding sideways toward his downed informant, Garrus emptied the clip into the assassin, blowing off chunks of armour and flesh before a round impacted the turian's face, blowing it out the back of his head.

As Saren's last man fell, Garrus raced toward the quarian. He threw himself onto his knees, sliding the last metre to her side. As he turned over the slight form, a small hand reached up to grip the yoke of his armour. He pressed his hands over the gaping wound in her chest.

"Do you know why they did this?" Sorrow and regret garotted him, strangling the words.

"Saren," she said, her voice a wet, lilting whisper laden with pain. She coughed, blood spattering against the inside of her mask.

Garrus froze from the inside out, his guts turning to black ice. The ambush wasn't for him. He knew Chloe hadn't set him up, but damn it … Saren used him to kill that child. "What about Saren?" he asked, layering his voice with comfort to ease her passing.

"Geth." The word crawled forth, a tremulous, laboured sigh of sound. "Armstrong Nebula." Her hand slid from his armour.


	3. Chapter 3

**Soluvermus** - A small (average size 8-12 cms/1-2 cms diameter), heavily armoured earthworm native to Palaven's more northern and southern regions. It is considered a delicacy. Its shell is cracked then it is dropped into a heavily boiling pot of fruit extracts and spices. The shell is then broken open, the intestinal tract stripped out with the end of a talon, and the rest is slurped down whole.

* * *

><p>"Well, you're seeing the galaxy, Vakarian." Garrus shifted in the driver's seat keeping a weather eye on the LADAR as his APC bounced its way through the low mountains. "The ass-end of the galaxy, but it could be worse." As the temperature inside the Grizzly rose above forty degrees centigrade, he adjusted the climate control in his armour, shivering as a trickle of cool air slid over his hide. Solcrum couldn't exactly be called hospitable, but at least his plates weren't frozen solid. Another shiver greeted the memory of taking out the geth base on the spirit-forsaken iceblock of Antibaar.<p>

After handing his life-savings over to the Shadow Broker for intel and transportation, ten days of travel, and four geth bases, he finally closed on their headquarters in the Armstrong Nebula. A grin quirked one mandible as he imagined his father spitting stones when he found out his son had taken investigative leave, then—as he would—figured out where Garrus had gone.

His omnitool let out one of its indecently cheerful chirps, alerting him to another incoming message from Commander Jane Shepard. That made ten since the day the quarian died. He'd considered meeting her before leaving, but the need to prove his father wrong won out. Assuaging his guilt at leaving Shepard out of the loop, he vowed to give her whatever he found when he got back.

His LADAR lit up with red dots for a half second then blanked out. Jammed. No matter. He'd charted a course for high ground and a good sight line to the base. His armour would protect him long enough to take out the snipers, then he could hunker down, let everything cool, and head back out to take down the ground troops. Once he picked off the small units and the damned rocket troopers, he could drive down to deal with the two colossi.

Plan in place, he sealed himself inside his helmet and prepped his rifle before exiting the APC into the blue smoldering forge that was Solcrum. Four quick shots later, three snipers and a rocket trooper lay melting on the ground. Garrus's armour alarm bellowed in his ear. He retreated to the Grizzly, popping the seal on his helmet the second he sealed the door. Trembling legs dumped him into the closest seat.

"I'm never eating _Soluvermus_ again," he grumbled, reaching under the seat for water.

Solcrum definitely gave Antibaar competition for worst environment known to turian-kind. Two bottles of water later, his armour's systems had cooled, so he suited up, grabbed his rifle and headed out.

He sealed the hatch and turned, a barrage of assault rifle rounds pelting his shields. Damn rookie move, not anticipating they'd climb after him. In the back of his head, his _pari_ began a lecture on tactics.

"_You only have to be one move ahead, Garrus,_" Herros barked in that rigid, military tone that had passed for fatherly since Garrus reached a sufficient height to hold a gun, "_but it needs to be the right move."_

Garrus rolled toward the back of the Grizzly, taking cover behind it. His gaze slid toward the heat meter before he swapped his sniper rifle for his assault rifle.

"_Remain aware of your surroundings, Garrus. Allowing yourself to get complacent is asking to take a bullet in the back of your head."_

Garrus swung around to bulls-eye a trooper's head. Squealing and chattering, it dropped, twitching. Clear on the back side, he ducked out, checking on the rest of the geth. A rocket winged his shields, throwing him back, another missile flying wide. Solid cover five metres in front of the APC sheltered two rocket troopers. Much too close for comfort, a handful of assault troopers already cut him off from the hatch.

He glanced at his environmental hazard meter: 25%. Once maxxed, he'd have as long as it took to cook him alive, multiplied by his medigel supply. Not long enough. Leaning out, he took down two troopers. Seven left. Reeling back, a jagged pain tearing through his chest, he avoided two missiles, their trails blinding him as they seared along his shields.

"_Keep an eye on your six, Garrus. You counted ten at the base, and you can see five. Do the math. Don't let them flank you."_

A muted snarl answered his father's voice as he ducked around the Grizzly's fender, checking for enemies closing on the offside. Two troopers whittled down his shields, but not fast enough to break his focus. Overloading them, he punched a handful of bullets through each flashlight head. Five. The odds infused his spine with steel as a glance at the hazard meter confirmed armour failure within forty-five seconds. He really didn't want to roast inside his plates.

Forcing calm, Garrus ran the variables. He'd never make it to the tank's hatch taking fire from both rocket troopers. Only one chance got him into the tank alive. Staying low, he edged down the Grizzly. Tense, muscles coiled, he prepared to launch himself toward the rocket troopers' cover.

The shriek of his suit alarm catapulted him straight up, stopping his heart dead as he spun to meet the attack. It took three seconds to recognize the sound. Muttering to himself, he settled back into a crouch.

"_Don't get jumpy. Jumpy leads to panic, and panic leads to stupid. I don't need to say where stupid leads, do I, Garrus?"_

He winced and took a deep breath. "Yeah, _Pari_, I know." Taking a couple of deep breaths to settle the nerves being tortured by the rapidly accelerating alarm, he leaned out. Ten seconds. An overload threw the two rocket troopers out of their cover. Opening fire, he charged.

"_Risky, but your only option. Grab a rocket launcher if you can."_

"I know. Shut up and leave me alone." One of the geth fell. The alarm changed to a single tone, his armour's joints seizing as they melted. So close. A rocket launcher raised. A flash of light. The world exploded into pain and fire before fading into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Pahir** - Son

When Garrus awoke, screams tearing from his throat like razor wire, he begged his captors—faceless through the cobalt miasma of agony—to let him die. They did not grant him that mercy. In those rare moments he surfaced, gasping and flailing, above the heavy, rolling seas of regenerating nerves and charred flesh, he heard snippets of conversation. Massive burn trauma … shattered keel … organ damage.

Why hadn't they just let him die?

Drugs dragged him beneath the roaring waves, but not into rest. Instead, cold, black depths smothered him, time and sense losing all meaning. Whispers slithered through the watery darkness, their oily tentacles sculpting nightmares out of memory.

"_Pari! Please don't go."_

"_I need to go to work, Garrus. I'll see you next weekend."_

"_Take me. Please. I'll behave."_

_A soft sigh. "A young _torin _needs soil under his feet and the wide sky above his head, Garrus." Gentle talons brushed the tears from his cheeks. "I'll be home before you know it. Take care of your _mari _and Sol for me." Mandibles fluttered in a proud smile as Garrus straightened. "That's my brave _pahir_."_

Skittering through his mind on needle legs, the whispers burrowed, searching.

"_Believe it or not, Garrus, I love you. You're my _pahir_, and I'm not here to thwart your career. I'm here because it will break my heart to see you end up somewhere dark and ugly." _ Why hadn't he trusted the sadness he saw in the slump of his father's shoulders … the helpless sweep of his mandibles?

Garrus opened his eyes, holding his breath in anticipation of incoming agony as his surroundings swimming into focus. When the tide did not roll in, he tried to move his hands. Shackled.

"Be still," a female voice soothed.

Garrus turned his head, drawn to the comfort promised in the lilting tone.

An asari dressed in an elaborate gown and headdress stood a few metres away, watching him with a disarmingly compassionate stare. "You're safe and being cared for." She stepped forward and laid a cool hand on his brow, revealing two geth troopers standing guard just behind her.

Garrus jerked away from her touch. "Safe? I'm only here because of them."

She smiled and nodded. "Very true. They could have left you to cook. Fortunately for you, their consensus decided in favour of compassion." Delicate fingers unshackled him. "You're not a prisoner, Officer Vakarian." She nodded toward a pile of patched C-Sec armour. "The geth did their best to repair your equipment. Saren didn't believe you'd accept anything else."

Garrus sat up, wincing as his blankets fell away. Whorled scars carved deep into his plates, his hide raw and angry looking. "He was right," he said, forcing a deep growl through his subvocal as he slid off the bed to stand on unsteady legs. His armour's uncompromising edges pressed into barely healed flesh, but after so much delirious, naked agony, he counted the pain of slipping back into his second skin as a blessing.

"Come, Saren awaits." The asari glided from the room.

"Why am I here?" He followed, trailing a hand on the wall to steady himself. "How long have I been here?" Judging by the fact a newborn varren pup could take him down, it must have been weeks.

"All shall be revealed," she replied.

She led Garrus onto a massive bridge, but one so foreign that it formed a spiritual nullity, the wrongness of it burning like poison. Dead center, alone, Saren sat in a large chair, head resting in his hand. How could he stand to sit there?

Inside Garrus's head the skittering whispers sank in their claws. Wincing, he pressed the heel of his hand to his temple and fought back the voice insisting that he scream and run.

"Saren? Officer Vakarian." The asari backed out the door. Garrus wished he was going with her.

The Spectre stood, levelling a searing-laser stare at Garrus. "Garrus Vakarian. Welcome to _Sovereign_." He held out an arm as if introducing the ship. When Garrus didn't reply, the Spectre chuckled. "Lady Benezia told you that you aren't a prisoner?"

Nodding, Garrus chuffed. "She did." He stood at parade rest, using the familiar posture to hide his fear as he looked into Saren's eyes and saw absolute madness there.

"You don't believe her." Saren nodded. "Understandable." He stood in front of Garrus and held out an omnitool. "Yours. Quite badly damaged, I'm afraid, but perhaps you can repair it."

"I'd like to return to the Citadel." Taking the omnitool, he sighed. It would probably never send a message.

"I'm afraid taking _Sovereign_ to the Citadel is impossible." Saren paced a few strides then back. "Commander Shepard is making things difficult after Eden Prime, but when we resupply, I'll send you on your way." He smiled. "This isn't the first time you've gained my attention. I was disappointed you didn't continue Spectre training." Saren shook his head. "You're tired. Benezia will show you to a cabin. Oh, this vessel is ancient, wandering is not a good idea. We'll talk again."

In his cabin, Garrus paced, panic prickling the back of his neck like a live electrical current. He needed to get a message away from the ship. Despite Saren's honeyed words, he doubted he'd be let go. Garrus had used the 'I'm on your side. Don't worry, I'll take care of you' routine more than Saren.

No, his only hope of salvation lay in finding Commander Jane Shepard. The name burned itself into his brain like a fever. Yes, he needed to find Shepard.

Fighting down the panic, he sat at his table and pulled out his omnitool. Maybe he could repair it. He certainly seemed to have plenty of time to try. On the fifth day, he connected to the extranet, letting out a muffled whoop of victory. "Commander Jane Shepard, I'm getting the hell out of here."

Yet, the message's header read: Herros Vakarian, Captain. Major case division. Citadel Security.


	5. Chapter 5

His escape plan was simple. Kill a geth, and use its power cell to hide from Sovereign's sensors. Steal a ship. Get to Shepard.

"Pari_, I don't know if my plan will work, but I have to try. The longer I'm here, the more enticing Saren's offer to join him gets. This ship … it eats away at you. _

The first search party almost caught him three corridors from his cell, no doubt tracking the dead geth's overclocked power source. Ducking into a maintenance shaft, he deactivated his makeshift disguise, hoping the EM fields from the power conduits hid him. He held his breath as the geth passed by.

A relieved sigh escaped as he examined the conduits, cables, and pipes. Insulated shrouding covered one. A helium 3 line? If so, it might lead him straight to a shuttle. Asking the spirits' favour, he set off, crawling down the shaft.

Pari, _I can feel the empty spaces, the bits and pieces _Sovereign's _stolen from me. It wants to hollow me out and fill me with something terrible. If I stay much longer, Garrus Vakarian will disappear forever._

A shuttle bay.

Garrus's heart leaped into his throat, pounding hard and quick. He hid amidst the cables and peered out at the geth-crowded floor. Fighters swarmed like wasps around a hive, going and coming through the huge door, heading for the relay.

He grinned. A relay. Thank the spirits. He just needed to get to a fighter.

His muscles seized to wood then lead while he waited for his chance. When it came, he jumped down the nearly five metres to the floor, not a challenging distance. Normally. Ankles made fragile by weeks in bed nearly shattered on impact. As he lay behind a crate, waiting for the varren to stop gnawing on his legs, he fought down a sudden urge to call out, alert the geth. Why would he want to get caught? He needed to get to Shepard.

_If I don't make it out, know that I've felt you with me, guiding me. I'm sorry for not listening. Maybe sometimes wisdom just comes too late. Please, tell _Mari _and Sol I love them._

Garrus jammed himself into the fighter's cockpit, familiarizing himself with thruster and weapon controls before he started the drive just in case he needed to shoot his way out. In the end, he slipped out along with several others, sticking with them to the relay.

_Even though I fought against you, you've always been the most influential person in my life. The best parts of who I am, I owe to you._

The Citadel. Shepard.

A laugh shuddered between chattering teeth as the fighter exited the mass effect corridor at the Widow relay. Garrus collapsed into the seat, relief draining the last bit of tension holding him upright. .

So close to her.

He hid the fighter behind the relay and opened a channel to his father. Hope pounding through his veins, head light and dizzy, he waited as the call connected.

His _pari's_ face appeared on the small screen, his officious mask of polite interest shattering into relief and joy, the sun sweeping away the darkness. "Dear spirits. Garrus." His father's amber eyes paled through a wash of tears. "_Pahir._" Mandibles fluttering hard and low, Herros leaned toward the screen. "Are you all right? Where are you?"

Garrus swallowed, trying to wedge words past the emotional landslide blocking his throat. "_Pari_." The word came out warm and soft, the voice of the boy who'd once worshipped his father's every move. "I'm behind the relay in a geth fighter." The ice cracked, a raw keen sneaking past his control. After taking a second to police his emotions, he continued, "Can you get me clearance? I need to find Commander Jane Shepard."

Helpless joy gave way to a harder smile of pride. "Give me a second. Keep the channel open."

Garrus shifted in the cramped space. Exhaustion bullied him, heavy and implacable, but he forced himself to stay frosty. Once Shepard knew what he'd discovered, the galaxy could do whatever it wanted to him.

Herros reappeared, his eyes still shining with tears. "Shepard is meeting with the council. Two fighters are on their way to escort you to the tower. I'll meet you there." Keening softly, he said, "Hand shake code sent. It's going to be okay. You're home, _pahir_."

"I see my escort on the LADAR." Garrus powered down the fighter's weapons and sent the recognition code to the council ships.

The council tower. She was right there.

Garrus clambered out of the fighter and stretched, working the kinks out of his plates. When his father arrived on the landing pad, Garrus strode forward, meeting Herros halfway.

After staring at one another for a moment, the elder Vakarian reached out, gripping Garrus's shoulders in a frantic embrace. "Are you all right?" he asked, pulling back. His mandibles dropped, his gaze travelling over Garrus's scars. Gentle talons reached up, but stopped short as if afraid of hurting him.

Garrus nodded, gripping his father by the shoulders and leaning in, a faint sigh drifting out as their brows touched. "I'm fine, but I have to find Shepard."

His father nodded and withdrew, ushering him to the elevator. They stood silent and still until the doors opened, leading into the dim, glowing-blossom beauty of the council chambers.

Halfway up the room, at the top of a flight of stairs, he saw her. Shepard. A small cluster of people listened to her, their expressions captivated. He stopped, part of him screaming to walk away.

No! She needed to know about Saren.

Each step came harder, a panicked alarm shrieking deep within him, begging him to stop. Something was wrong. So very wrong. The whispers skittered, digging in their needle legs as he forced himself to the top of the stairs. She turned, intense green eyes staring straight through him. Did she see?

He cleared his throat. "Commander Shepard? Garrus Vakarian."

* * *

><p><strong>A-N:<strong> When I started this for the Aria's Afterlife September contest, that was as far as it went. An intriguing 'what if' to play with in chapters of under 1000 words. Those who know me will not be surprised that the story has beckoned, asking to be written. So here I will ask if there is any interest beyond my own as to how this universe would play out. Warning, I do see it being fairly dark, and as I already have two huge projects underway, it would be updated once every couple of weeks. Anyway, I thought I'd ask if I'm the only one who would like to see this AU fleshed out. Thanks for reading, as always. And huge hugs to my betas who helped me pull 250 or so words per chapter. I need to learn how to write small ideas.


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